Happy Tuesday, you lovely thing! Boy, am I glad to see you. Have a seat, I’ve got a rant to get through.
Yesterday afternoon I was sitting outside a coffee shop in Camden, waiting for a friend and quietly minding my own business. As anyone who lives in an urban area will know, sometimes when you’re out and about you have to talk to strangers. Most people approach you to ask for the time, directions or to hand you a flyer, but the guy I encountered yesterday was a whole new breed of weird stranger (even by Camden’s gloriously bizarre standards). He approached me to ask for my opinion on his hand-made Christmas cards, which were the most horrific, disturbing and unsettling images I have seen in a very long time. Genuine excerpt from our conversation:
Stranger: “So, which one do you prefer? There’s this one, which is the masses of sheep – the consumers, you get me? – bowing down to a tree made of bloodstained iPods, the one of Jesus shooting Ronald McDonald in the face, or the creepy Santa with a bag of kids’ faces. What do you think?”
Me: “…I think you should talk to someone.”
Stranger: “So you don’t want to buy one?”
Me: “No, thank you. I really like Christmas.”
And I do, I love Christmas. I love the carols, parties, decorations, lovely food, sparkling drinks, shiny wrapping paper and rubbish cracker jokes. (I would love the silly hats too, but they don’t fit over my ridiculous hair. True story.) I also love presents, as of course we all do. I understand that the consumer-driven chaos of Christmas is what the guy in Camden was angry about, and I can respect that. I also realise that most of the things I’ve just listed as ‘reasons to love Christmas’ are consumerist and non-essential. I’m not going to apologise for liking things that don’t really matter, because I don’t think that crackers and all that stuff are more important than being with my family, or showing my friends how much I love and appreciate them.
Last year we Brits gobbled approximately 10 million turkeys, spent nearly £600 each on gifts, and probably splashed out thousands of pounds on stamps for our Christmas cards. This is all in keeping with the Camden guy’s anti-establishment rage, but I don’t believe that the way to fix that is to send grotesque greeting cards. Don’t get me wrong: I am not disputing this man’s right to express his opinion or use his creativity – fair play to him for coming up with such striking/memorable images – but I personally will not be swayed by his view. (Although I will concede that this year’s Christmas advert war is starting to grate just a bit.)
Not to get all Tiny Tim about it, but the most important thing about Christmas is the people we spend it with: friends, family and loved ones. (For instance, the photograph at the top of this post is courtesy of my dad, who captured this lovely moment of typical sibling silliness on Christmas day last year.) We are allowed to enjoy the consumer stuff like food, drink and presents because they are much less important, but more controllable. You can hope and pray that your parents won’t get into a row over dinner, or that your granddad won’t get drunk and be loudly racist, or that your sister will cheer up even though she got dumped a week ago, but you cannot make these things happen. You can make nice food and an effort to find thoughtful gifts.
Even if you don’t have a completely harmonious, sober or exuberant Christmas, the consumer crap is a way of saying to people “I love you, and I want us to have a special day together.” If we burn the turkey and get terrible presents, it doesn’t matter because it is just stuff and at least we tried. I know that that’s not why the festive season is so financially spectacular, but if we’ve got this cultural phenomenon we might as well find the positive aspects of it.
Right, rant over. I’m going to make some mince pies. You go and have a marvellous day, whatever you’re up to.